Crete: the joys of Easter in Greece

In Crete, Anthony Horowitz has an unforgettable Easter experience among
chanting priests and a raki-fuelled congregation

"Easter is a festival in which the religious, the theatrical, the social and the metaphysical all play a part and it brings communities together with a joyfulness which, I think, in Britain we have largely lost"Photo: ALAMY

I am not very religious, but I have come to realise that there is more to Easter than traffic jams on the M4 and Cadbury’s Creme Eggs. For the last four years, I’ve decamped to Crete, arriving around Good Friday and taking advantage of the bank holiday weekend. EasyJet has a flight that leaves Gatwick at some hideous hour in the morning, but it means that I can arrive by lunchtime, be on the beach in the afternoon, and have most of my sins absolved by the time I go to bed. Greek Easter is a truly wonderful experience; physically and spiritually refreshing. I can’t recommend it highly enough.

Crete might not be the obvious choice if you’re heading to a Greek island, whatever the time of year. It does not have the striking beauty of – say – Santorini or the picture postcard charm of Hydra, Paros and many others. And Agios Nikolaos, where I stay, is unlikely to appear on the front cover of many travel brochures. Once a fishing village, it has grown into a busy, noisy, slightly shabby town with a one-way system as irrational as a Möbius strip. There’s a harbour, a marina, a lake, several beaches and a main square, but it took me months to work out how they were connected and there are still parts of the place I’ve never visited because I’m not sure how to drive there.

And yet Ag Nik (which is what everyone calls it) has a charm which grows on you the longer you stay and - given the difficulty of finding the exit roads - that may be some time. I love to sit outside the mushroom pink Asteria Café in the harbour with the old custom house and port authority building to one side, simply watching life slide by… people strolling, kids on motorbikes, and, in front of me, the Aegean Sea a crystal blue that puts the rest of the Mediterranean to shame. Yes, there are dozens of tourist shops selling such essential items as sponges, soaps and incredibly large knives. Yes, cruise ships pull in and disgorge crowds of visitors who will be gone before the sun sets. But this is a proper, working town with a life and a tempo of its own.

At its very heart is a large lake – Voulismeni by name – and it’s essential to the Easter narrative. The lake is extraordinary. According to local legend it is bottomless and it does have a strangely mythic feel, being surrounded by sheer rock walls with restaurants, bars and cafés hanging precariously above. The water is dark and would be forbidding but for the gaily coloured fishing boats that are moored along the side. You get the sense that the entire town could fit into this area and, at midnight on Easter Saturday, that is exactly what it does.

Easter is the most important day in the Greek calendar, celebrated with much more enthusiasm and excitement than Christmas. Starting on Clean Monday (the equivalent of our Shrove Tuesday) it actually lasts forty-nine days, during which the most orthodox Greeks will eat no meat or fish - nothing with blood. It is a festival in which the religious, the theatrical, the social and the metaphysical all play a part and it brings communities together with a joyfulness which, I think, in Britain we have largely lost.

The churches – hundreds of them - are decorated beautifully, the altars embroidered with buds and flowers that have been intricately woven together. Daisies, lemon flowers and basil leaves are strewn over the floor. On Thursday, everyone busies themselves daubing eggs (which symbolise rebirth) with red paint (the colour of blood). There are processions on Friday night with priests chanting as the bier, which represents Christ’s burial place, is carried through the streets and whole families come out onto their balconies, greeting it with clouds of incense and showers of rose water as it passes.

But it’s the Saturday I enjoy most. The Greeks love handing out gifts at the best of times but on this day they go into overdrive with chocolate eggs, traditional cakes and sweet Easter loaves. As night falls on Agios Nikolaos, everyone arrives at the lake and there’s a curious atmosphere – partly religious but mainly one big party. You have to imagine a thousand people, standing in the darkness, surrounding the water on two levels – below and high above. Everyone is holding candles. There are balloon sellers and children hurling fire crackers in every direction… they go off with deafening explosions. It’s significant that nobody is controlling what happens. The police maintain a certain presence but our old friends, health and safety, are nowhere to be seen.

Just before midnight, the bells of the tiny and very beautiful church of St George – which is set back from the lake with views over the harbour – begin to peal and the priests emerge, chanting in deep, baritone voices. They are followed by their congregation and carry a flame which has been flown to Athens all the way from Jerusalem where it has been disseminated across Greece. This is my favourite moment. As I watch, the tiny flame is passed from one candle to the next spreading and multiplying until the flickering lights are all around me. It’s a beautiful sight and the cue for a firework display which is as disorganised as everything else with mortars and rockets fired from every rooftop, bursting brilliantly in the ink black sky.

At the same time, a single fireball travels down a wire to the centre of the lake where an effigy of Judas Iscariot stands on a floating platform. All of this is his fault and he must pay, exploding into flame and, at the same time, expiating the sins of the past year. The bells are still ringing. The priests are still chanting. People are already hitting the raki and embracing each other. It is impossible not to feel a surge of the most intense happiness.

And then it’s all over. Greek families who have been fasting all day go off for a dinner which begins with a traditional soup – magiritsa – made of the liver and intestines of a sheep with dill, fennel, egg and lemon. Lamb will also be on the menu the following day for Easter Sunday is another celebration. I usually end up in Marilena, a family-run tavern in neighbouring Elounda where huge chunks of meat turn on spits over charcoal and where lunch will continue until late afternoon. But I’d also recommend Pelagos, in Ag Nik itself – it has a lovely garden courtyard – and Maistrali on the far side of the harbour… it has great food and it’s cheap.

Crete is a fabulous holiday destination at any time of the year. Drive ten minutes out of Agios Nikolaos and you will find yourself a landscape that hasn’t changed in a thousand years with tiny, hilltop villages, stunning monasteries and lovely gorge walks. All you have to do is find the exit... through the main square and the first on your right. The road is narrow and unpromising but if you’re heading uphill, you’re probably going the right way.